


Nothing More

by Elrewin



Series: AXG Week 2014 [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Mature just in case, a little angsty too, a little nsfw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-24
Updated: 2014-07-24
Packaged: 2018-02-10 06:05:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2013876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elrewin/pseuds/Elrewin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In his dreams he wasn’t a bastard and she wasn’t a princess. In his dreams he could love her and nobody had anything to say about it. In his dreams he would love her and she would love him back.</p>
<p>But he was only a bastard and she was a princess, and these were only dreams. Nothing more.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Done for day 4 of AXG Week, "Dream".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing More

**Author's Note:**

> Guys, I know I already posted this on Drabbles but I put it because 1. I don't have any fresh ideas, 2. I don't have time to write another, 3. it suits the theme well and 4. I like it quite a lot. So for those who already read it, well, do as you wish (re-read it, don't read it) and for the others, enjoy !

He could see from his spot on the bench that she was uncomfortable. That was plain for everyone, in fact. She kept wriggling like she had a bunch of nettles under her bodice, and her face when she thought no one was watching was priceless.

Lady Smallwood had insisted she wears a dress and Arya liked her enough to allow it – but it was with clear reluctance. She had complained that she looked stupid, that she wasn't like her sister and that dresses didn't fit her, but at the end their host had stated that it would please her and Arya had finally complied.

Gendry would beg to disagree though. She didn't look stupid and dresses _definitively_ fitted her. This one was simple but nice, blue with some touches of silver on the collar that brought out the grey of her eyes. It looked nothing like the ridiculous thing she had worn years ago, even if he had liked it as well. In fact, _she_ looked nothing like the skinny little thing of years ago. What had been a wild, boyish and yet strangely cute creature had grown into a woman of surpassing loveliness. She wouldn't pass for a boy now even if she tried. Her face had lost all its baby fat and her features were as ciseled as ice, with high cheekbones and a strong jaw. Her eyes were a strange thing. They could turn as soft as a fog or as hard as stone whether she talked to a friend or an enemy, but they always kept this gleam like she knew things that no other in the world knew – or should know.

But shamefully, he had to admit her eyes weren't what he was looking at tonight. Her face wasn't the only thing that had blossomed over the years, and her body had grown enough to keep him awake (and ashing) at night. Her legs were longer, her hips wider and her breasts fully filled her bodice now. Her collar was pretty low and, despite all her attempts to pull it up, it gave a nice view of her charms to his eyes. Infortunately, he wasn't the only one enjoying it. He had heard some lads from the Brotherhood say comments that would have maid a whore blush, and Ned Dayne had gaped at her until she gave him a thwack behind the head.

He wondered why he hadn't noticed them until now. When she had appeared again in his life, he had been so happy he hadn't really focused on something else than her presence. Or maybe it was because of the awfully large shirts she wore – that things could hide an entire arsenal, which was probably the point. But now that dress was a torture, both hiding and revealing her curves, making him ache to not know what was underneath when it was so desesperatly close.

For a while he let his imagination wander. In his dreams he wasn't a bastard and she wasn't a princess, and he could have her in every ways. In his dreams they were alone in this room and he would stand up and go to her, would caress her neck with the tip of his fingers and rip her dress out of his way. She would let out a gasp but she wouldn't protest. He would cup her breasts in his hands, his big clumsy hands that had known nothing else but metal and hard labor, would feel their softness under the calluses of his fingers. His thumbs would come to tease her nipples and he would watch her squirm and whine under them ; and when she wouldn't take it anymore, he would remove and replace them with his mouth. In his dreams he would grab her ass and squeeze it hard enough to leave a mark, enough to let the world know she belongs to him (or he to her ?). In his dreams she would kiss him back and would never let anything stand between them.

But he was only a bastard and she was a princess, and these were only dreams. Nothing more.

 


End file.
